


Undercover

by GingerGoldRose



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28398216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerGoldRose/pseuds/GingerGoldRose
Summary: Irving Braxiatel and Romana II are undercover in Victorian England hunting down a renegade Time Lord.
Relationships: Irving Braxiatel/Romana II
Comments: 18
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This One Shot? was inspired by a photoshop manipulation by The_Plot_Thinens.

** Undercover **

“Really, Brax. There is no need to pout so. Look at it as an additional lease on the life of this incarnation, barring accidents.” Romana offered as she acclimated to both Irving Braxiatel’s younger face and their bumpy carriage cab. Braxiatel could not help but pout though.

“Romana, I’ll have you know that I was very proud of my lines and my shocks of gray. They made me look quite distinguished and I worked hard to outwit the Grim Reaper many a times over to earn them. And I feel like some sort of exhibitionist without my mustache.”

“Well, you didn’t have to shave it off.”

“It had to be done. It just looked horrendous on a face as young as this. Liable to open me up to ridicule more than to safeguard me from ageism.” Braxiatel explained quite strategically and irritated.

“Well, look on the bright side. At least no one in this era will mistake you for my uncle or father anymore.”

“In Victorian England? No, the presumptions will be far worst.” Braxiatel foreshadowed, but Romana did not quite catch his meaning.

“What do you mean? No one will think anything of two young people out looking for another ‘young’ friend. I just hope that idiot of a renegade Time Lord will be easy enough to recognize. His latest regeneration was an old man, so if that contraption of his did to you what it did to him, we might have trouble spotting him.” Romana fretted, secretly wishing that The Doctor was here to help. As meandering as his methods were, no one was better suited to help catch a renegade than a renegade. Then again, Irving Braxiatel was more politic about it, far sneakier, but he honestly was just as unhinged in his methods as his younger brother.

“Oh, I’ll recognize him no matter how old his is.” Braxiatel swore menacingly low. He was quite unsettlingly quiet for the duration of the ride to the grand house in Bristol, in which they would be staying. Once there, their undercover mission would truly begin.

“Ah, how wonderful to finally meet you.” Welcomed the Master of the House, Lord Hugh. “Though I must admit, you are a bit younger than I anticipated a man of your vast knowledge and expertise, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” Romana looked to Braxiatel and silently mouthed the name back at him incredulously. Braxiatel shrugged before continuing, trying not to sigh in annoyance as the predicted, oncoming storm of ageism.

“Yes, indeed. Lord Hugh, I would like you to meet—” Braxiatel began as he brought Romana to the Lord’s attention.

“Oh, is this your younger sister?” The man interrupted.

“NO!” Romana could not help but exclaim, disgusted by the idea. Both men jolted in surprise.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Holmes. Mr. Holmes did not mention in his prior letters that he had recently taken a wife.” Lord Hugh apologized. Romana stuttered, dumbstruck at Lord Hugh’s absurd assumption!

“Yes, wedded quite recently.” Smiled Braxiatel widely, barely able to contain his mirth by this humorous development thanks to Romana’s little outburst. Yes, he had vaguely hinted at such an occurrence being possible, but he could have never predicted it would actually happen and moreover, that Romana would have been the agent of it!

“Must have missed the bands posted in the London papers.” Lord Hugh supposed. “Unless the pair of you ran off to Gretna Green, eh, what?” The Lord joked slyly, not realizing just how much his teasing was at poor Romana’s expense. Romana looked at Braxiatel and the situation, equal parts horrified and embarrassed by her folly. Romana was visibly fearful that Braxiatel would add to the clandestine marriage joke, but he thankfully did not… He did not even laugh and seemed almost unamused, which prompted the Lord to almost apologize and change the subject to duller, more appropriate topics. Yes, Braxiatel still knew they had a job to do. Coming off as ill-bred commoners in mansion full of upper-crust hypocrites would greatly limit their ability to navigate this social circle and find their fugitive Time Lord. Despite his younger circumstances and his features now ill-suited for facial hair, Braxiatel’s growing, dour mood improved drastically as a footman approached them. The young man wished to take their bags to whatever accommodations were set up for Mr., and now Mrs., Holmes for the duration of their stay. Knowing full well that neither of them wished to trust lord nor servant with their alien, delicate equipment in their trans-dimensional luggage, Braxiatel came up with a plan... One so that neither of them would have to part with their bags.

“Darling, if you won’t allow the footman to take your things to our room, then please allow me. It’s my pleasure and my duty as your faithful husband.” Braxiatel said with such believable sincerity it had even Lady Hugh sighing at the joys of perceived young love. Romana sighed and tried not to roll her eyes. How could Brax go on saying such lies with such a straight face and an air of truthfulness? How could he stand himself? This was going to be a long, undercover operation…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romana and Braxiatel: A dinner party or a stakeout?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I doing this to myself?!?

As he prepared to go down for dinner, Braxiatel observed his job shaving in the glass of the mirror. The task was aided by the use of alien tech, curtsey of Romana, but he still turned his neck either which way to examine his smooth angles and plains. Yes, they were smooth, but, unfortunately, in so many ways more now than they ought. Sigh… This “new” face of his... He was still handsome at least, which was something. After finding himself unexpectedly in the blast zone of a desperate Time Lord experiment, he considered himself lucky. Cobbling together some kind of regressive regeneration apparatus was insane at best! 

Getting into the madman’s head though, Braxiatel supposed he himself might have risked it too. Especially when cornered and with too few regenerations left to risk blowing through another on the slim hope that a brand new face would help you hide from your enemies. And now, thanks to that Time Lord’s flawed logic, Braxiatel’s fresh, young, vibrant look was something he would just have to get used to again. Every time he passed a reflective surface, he practically jumped in surprise to see the ghost of his present regeneration’s younger self staring back at him. On a number of occasions, he half thought his younger self was crossing over his own time line again!

“At least the older timber of my voice remains intact. If I had to sound like practically a prepubescent teenager again for another couple hundred years, I would force on a regeneration right now…” He frowned at his pretty boy reflection.

“And here I thought your vanity only went as far as your physical appearance, Brax.” quipped Romana as she at that moment emerged from the washroom.

“One should never mess with perfection, Romana—” Retorted Brax proudly and he then peered through the mirror in her direction behind him. And that was his mistake, because now superior “perfection” was reflected back at him and he nearly jumped again.

Romana had changed out of her traveling clothes into a sophisticated, glorious, red and gold Worth evening gown! Yet another thing he had not anticipated when he found himself stranded here. The first being Romana arriving several weeks after his being stranded in the late Victorian period. Well, actually the part that surprised him was not the rescue, but rather the part with him being recruited in the recovery mission of the fugitive Time Lord what inadvertently got him into this mess in the first place! True, he had already been hunting the arrant Time Lord to pass the time. However, Braxiatel would have gladly passed along his intelligence and the actual extraction along to Narvin’s lot. Oh, well. He at least would look smart doing it in the new tuxedo Romana had supplied him. Although, he was certain that no one would pay him a second glance standing next to her. So long as Romana was on his arm though, his ego could not find any reason to care.

Braxiatel had been correct in his assumption that no one would be looking at him with Romana in the room, which he used to his advantage. With all eyes on Romana, no one noticed his eyes making many sweeps of the room for anything suspicious in this gathering of scientists and peerage. He had followed a hunch when he heard a new scientist was in town and looking for contacts to obtain certain rare items for his work. Judging by the specifications, it had all the earmarks of a stranded time traveler, for someone who knew what to look for. 

Brax’s looks were a bit harder to recognize now, but Romana, the president of the whole bloody planet of Gallifrey, would be a bit harder to conceal. It could not be helped though. Romana was not leaving without both Time Lords pulled out of the fissure in time this mess had accidentally created and she would trust no one but herself to accompany a fixed point Lungbarrow with a critical mission. Braxiatel could make the arrangement work though. If he spotted the gallifreyan first and had doubt it was him, the Time Lord’s look of horror at seeing his Lady President and the running that immediately followed would be all the confirmation Braxiatel needed to give chase. Braxiatel’s sweeps of the room were going fine until someone approached him to start up a conversation.

“Mr. Holmes, Lord Hugh has just told me that you have recently married. My congratulations. From what I heard from Lord Hugh and your correspondence, I would not have suspected you would ever be induced to marry. But where are my manners?” Staring at Romana, the random lord then introduced himself, exaggerated the impact of his philanthropy at Oxford University, bowed and kissed her hand. Quickly catching on that the pompous individual was far more interested in learning whatever he could about Braxiatel’s finely dressed, unknown “wife” than him, the Time Lord interjected.

“I thank you, Sir Reginald. Allow me to introduce my wife, Mrs. Irene Holmes née Adler. Her family is in theatre and assembly lighting manufacturing.” Braxiatel smiled proudly. When Romana’s expression gave the most minute indication of indignation from catching the literary reference, he smiled even more. The look on his face was quite impish in Romana’s eyes, but to anyone else it would just be the expression of a besotted, new husband. You could plainly see that the man was a bit put off by her assumed nouveau riche status. He however fought the impulse at the prospect of her family’s probable raw materials and business connections that came with dealing in innovative, electrical technology. Introductions made Sir Reginald went off, probably to disseminate that bit of intelligence to all his associates. It would certainly comfort many of them knowing that, although his choice of a spouse was rich and the most beautiful woman in the room, she was at least not titled or gentry like them. Oh, how little they knew. This Lady was no mere lady of a some small territory in England, she was a Lady of all Time! 

Alone again for the moment, Romana spoke up.

“First Sherlock Holmes and now Irene Norton! Are you trying to give yourself away, Brax?” 

“The year is 1885 and Sherlock is two years off from publishing. It’s safe. Or would you have preferred I had taken the name of that wily haired, ‘Doctor Emmett Brown’? That fictional character was actually tripping around in this year… And if Doc Brown took a wife, hmm… Then I suppose that would have made you ‘Clara Brown née Clayton’?” Braxiatel mused to himself. Romana groused at that.

“Well, maybe it would have improved your persona. At least Brown had a streak of romantic wonder along with the theatrics, you have none.” 

“Holmes and Adler never married, ah, but I feel that maybe they would have suited each other. Is that not romanticism enough for you that I corrected that star-crossed outcome? And I most sincerely doubt that our person of interest is familiar at all with Victorian literature. I specifically, split-second decided upon this planet and this time period when I diverted his time ring’s escape route so I would have the home team advantage.” Braxiatel defended. 

“Yes, and you still have yet to acknowledge at all my coming to your rescue. I don’t think you would have fancied for very long living in a time period. When people, if you hadn’t only been blasted back into a younger version yourself and had regenerated into a body a few shades darker or female, would start debating how entitled you are to human rights. Humans stymied their scientific progress for centuries because of that backwards thinking.”

“Yes, there is a noted lack of diversity among the humans of this party. Even though there are scientists as well as the local peerage.” Braxiatel agreed dryly. Despite the disgust he was feeling at the moment, he had not forgotten Romana’s first point. “And where I am certain that preserving the timelines was the only reason the rest of the Council deemed me worth rescuing… I know for a fact that you would have come for me with or without prompting. I thank you, My Lady.” Braxiatel then raised and gently kissed her gloved hand, more than outdoing the last lord to do so. It might have just been the vibrant red of her dress reflecting off of her pale skin, but Romana’s cheeks were certainly tinged red.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been really thinking on where I can go with this story. I hope you like it. Let me know. Thanks for reading!

Dinner was to be served promptly so Romana and Braxiatel did not have much time in the way of socializing. That was not necessarily a problem though. Their initial intention was to observe all the guests once gathered at the table. With everyone in one place, they could more efficiently rule out which individuals were most likely to provide any leads as to the whereabouts of their fugitive Time Lord. 

Braxiatel did not find the small period before dinner amongst the guests completely useless though. He and Romana had made ample use of and simultaneously ruled out the gossipy Sir Reginald, after all. Now all the guests present would soon be distractingly more interested in the new, wealthy, plebian wife of Sherlock Holmes rather than the fabled, illusive, genius himself. And they were right, Braxiatel was conveniently overlooked. Many ladies and gentlemen soon flocked near to catch a curious glimpse at Irene, the nouveau riche heiress, and Braxiatel, likewise, carefully observed them. Bird watching goes both ways, albeit his in a bit more of an inconspicuous, dignified manner.

Any man or lady who did not take an interest, Braxiatel was interested as to why. Some, it was obvious by their unpleasant turning of their features: classism. Others stayed away due perhaps of shyness or politeness? Braxiatel was displeased by the obvious answer for one particular couple as he and Romana navigated their way to the dinning room. Off in a corner on a settee, a young man, probably in his mid-twenties was purposely withhold a small notebook from a younger lady sitting next to him. Despite her hushed protests and insistent reaching to retrieve her book, the lad was in no hurry to hand it back. At some intervals, the childish man was even holding the book mockingly out of reach above her head. The man must have taken great pride in his advantage of height since it was obviously he did not match her in intelligence or sensibility.

“Just what are you always jotting down in this book, Miss Marbury? And you write it in other languages too. You should not be hiding things from your fiancé in this manner.” He half teased, but with a bit of exacerbation. Miss Marbury, despite her predicament, did not suffer from the same lack of volume control.

“Mr. Henley. Please return my notebook. My father will not be pleased if we make a spectacle of ourselves in polite society again.” She insisted and reminded in a fearful tone. Then, to her abject dismay, in their hushed struggle, the tiny notebook slipped from Mr. Henley’s fingers and went flying! Unfortunately rather than just landing on the floor, the book hit Braxiatel square in the arm, causing him to grunt a little before it hit the floor. The young woman at least had the dignity to look absolutely embarrassed by this turn of events. Well, more horrified than mortified. She reminded Braxiatel a bit like a deer in the headlights. Taking pity on the woman, Braxiatel said not a word. Quietly and calmly, he moved to pick up the book, which was a bit of an effort for him. As a lover of rare tomes, the sight of any discarded book lying faced down on the floor was very unpleasant to him. That seemed to wake her up from her frozen trance though! Miss Marbury hurried over the couple of feet to where the book fell and, despite her fancy dress, beat Braxiatel to it! This feat being accomplished in part thanks to Braxiatel. He was no fool and knowing now that she obviously had no desire for anyone else to look at her tiny hardback, paused in his tracks and allowed her to outstrip him.

“I beg your pardon, sir! My fiancé did not mean to strike you. Please accept my most sincere apologies! I should not have--” she cried, but Braxiatel stopped her before she brought any further attention to herself.

“Please, it was nothing. I am unharmed. Although, if I may say, dear lady...” Braxiatel reassured before his voice lowered. He was speaking so quietly now that only she could hear him, but he still purposely omitted Miss Marbury’s name. He did not want the few who had not seen the spectacle to eavesdrop and he was also worried she would be even more inconsolable if she knew her fiancé’s teasing had been loud enough for all to hear her name, even without superior gallifreyan hearing. “It is in my experience that gentlemen in the habit of withholding a lady’s own property from them when they are engaged seldom are cured of such ill behavior once married. In fact, they worsen.” He kindly advised. She stuttered a thank you before rejoining the man on the settee who at least had the dignity to appear civil as he pretended his social faux pas had not just happened. 

Braxiatel shook his head. The many paths of most of the guests’ timelines were relatively or predictably clean. But Miss Marbury… Her timeline was in such a volatile, unstable state that any path, good or bad was clouded to Braxiatel. With such a charmingly controlling fiancé who lacked good judgment though, it was no wonder. Such miserable equity in marriage whether for the sake of financial, social or political gain was a sacrifice he could not abide. It was the very reason in his youth he could not shirk the responsibility of consenting to an arranged marriage fast enough. And yet, here he was now reveling in this happenstance of a fake marriage with Romana… He more than suspected what had changed to change his aversion to the institution in his case, even in jest.

“Has it truly become so fashionable nowadays for members of civilized society to be exposing themselves to such ill-bred, common company? To sacrifice decency and decorum, on the pagan alter of science, all for the noble pursuit of technological advancement?” An older gentleman quietly griped to his wife as they passed Braxiatel and Romana on the way to the dining room.

“Mr. Henley may be ill-bred, but he is still a gentleman. There is no condescension there, Darling. As for his fiancée, yes, she is frightfully common. However, her father is an educated man of science. Let us hope that some of Henley’s more roguish and indolent behavior might be shamed out of him in such a scholarly father-in-law’s presence.” His wife soothed in well-practiced, low tone to calm her husband who did not suffer societal change well.

“What is the world coming to when it is acceptable for common women to take on the role that is so clearly reserved and best suited for gentlemen’s daughters of rehabilitating a gentleman husband? A rat certainly cannot teach a bird to soar properly as another bird can. And that mercenary Miss Marbury does not even have a fortune of her own. At least some of the ‘ladies’ of lowlier birth present have fortune enough to smooth over the multitudes of sins that come of such horrid matches.” He groused as he gave a sideward glance at Romana as he passed. The old man had thought he had spoken low enough for Braxiatel and Romana not to have heard them. Perhaps they would not have had heard too, again, if the human man had not been contending with the superior hearings of gallifreyans. Naturally, the old man was in ignorance of this, but his more observant wife certainly caught the dark look from Braxiatel at hearing the insult spoken so plainly in front of Romana. His wife did not speak out an apology for her husband’s insult, but rather, unbeknownst to her husband, redoubled her efforts to calm him down and get him to stop speaking so rudely as a form of contrition. This she seemed to accomplish with vague promises and expressing her confidence that her husband’s mood would improve once he had eaten something. The man begrudgingly agreed, owning that he was indeed hungry. Only then, to her credit, she did look back with apologetic eyes to Romana and Braxiatel before turning into the dining room. The elderly couple was out of sight, but Romana could see that their insults towards Romana and the hapless, young female human were still not out of Braxiatel’s mind. Romana, unable to abide this illogical behavior in Braxiatel when, she the offended party, was in no way insulted by a socially under-evolved group of aliens, moved to ameliorate the situation.

“Perhaps your mood would improve too once you have eaten, dear.” Romana soothed, quite plainly and halfheartedly mimicking the elderly woman’s words. She even went as far as to hold on to his arm in the same manner. Recognizing the undesirable parallels between him and the hateful, old man, Braxiatel schooled his features back into his usual, agreeable expressions. He then patted Romana’s hand a bit blithely on his arm.

“You are right, my dear, as always. I am a bit peckish.” Braxiatel played along without protest or affront despite her teasing, conceding his emotional shortcoming. Romana had certainly proven to be the greater proficient in her emotional detachment training at the Academy than him. The Ice Maiden outdoing the Icicle once again. He took a deep breath. Braxiatel would have to shape up if he did not wish become the unequal partner in this “marriage of convenience”. It would be quite hypocritical of him otherwise… Considering he had always dreaded the idea of being affianced to a partner of such a pitiable description. Now confident that he would be able to resist the urge to stare death daggers at the old man at the table, Romana and Braxiatel stepped into the dining room.

Even if it was not customary, given the length of the elegant train on the back of Romana’s dress, Braxiatel helped Romana sit down at the dinner table before joining her. And thank goodness for her company. Dinner would have been interminably uneventful if not for Romana.  
“But aren’t you afraid that electric light technology will quite literally steal the limelight from your dear family business?” quipped a man across the table from Romana.

“Oh, not at all. It is like Mr. Darwin suggests, one must evolve and adapt with their ever changing environment or face extinction. My family eagerly anticipates the advancement of electric light technology. One might say that is the ‘ ** _wave_** _of the future’_.” Romana countered and Braxiatel almost laughed aloud at Romana’s jokes as they went over most of all of their fellow guests’ heads. A clever reference to both the wavelength of visible light and the futurist saying that would not be officially coined until the 1940s.

Braxiatel tried his best not to rudely lean back in his chair and just beam with pride as he watched his “wife”, but she was not making it easy for him. He was completely, though secretly enamored! Science was her blood sport of choice and Romana was casually and sophisticatedly slaughtering all the misogynistic and sexist great minds at the table with her mere throwaway lines. Oh, how he could watch the pleasant curve of her mouth as she spoke… Observe the graceful turn of her head as she analyzed and deconstructed every tactic her arrogant opponents threw at her… He could spectate all day and would never grow tired. Still… They needed to get down to business and that would only happen when the men retreated to the smoking room. And the sooner they did that, the better.

“Irene, my dear,” Braxiatel began, gently pronouncing Romana’s pseudonym. “I fear the gentlemen will be in no humor to discuss matters of business if they exhaust their intellect trying to outmatch yours.” 

By this point, Lord Hugh was in more than a pleasant mood. Unlike his wife, Lord Hugh was not much for fancy dinner parties. Thanks to Mrs. Holmes though, he got to watch a fascinating scientific sparing rather than a tedious meal of technical jargon that he did not entirely or at all understand. Where his understanding was lacking in this conversation though, the mystified looks Mrs. Holmes inspired on the faces of his scholarly peers and scientist guests provided amusement enough for Lord Hugh. 

Lord Hugh was also particularly pleased with himself in having solved the mystery of what could have compelled Mr. Holmes to marry. Mr. Holmes had a reputation, after all. In the pages of Lord Hugh’s many correspondences with his friends in London, those of who moved within the same circles as Mr. Holmes, all professed he was a decided bachelor. How could they not when Mr. Holmes was known to have discouraged anyone’s attempts to forward their daughter’s suit to him? Even those who would make the most advantageous matches or had the loveliest of features seemed to have no sway with him. So the new Mrs. Holmes’ beauty, although exceptional, could not have alone persuaded him to matrimony. So Lord Hugh did not know how Mr. Holmes had fallen within her power. Now the old lord could see plainly. Mr. Holmes married this young lady because she was intriguingly cleverer than him! Capital! Just so pleasingly splendid!

Even before Braxiatel spoke of the time, the lord of the manor had noticed the dinner conversation was not dying down. In fact, it looked like at least more than one scientist still was keen to continue in their fruitless attempt with Mrs. Holmes to reclaim their intellectual honor. So Lord Hugh kindly took Mr. Holmes suggestion and piped up.

“Yes, the hour is getting late. Let the gentlemen withdraw to the smoking room for a bit before coffee and cake.” Lord Hugh and the other men rose from their chair, helping the ladies from their seats as they likewise retreated into the drawing room. Romana frowned a bit at this. How was she supposed to contribute to this operation if she could not go where the information on the business end of this party was being disseminated? Braxiatel must have picked up on Romana’s concern. He leaned down close to her ear.

“Leave this ignorant lot to me and know I take no joy in the uneven distribution of labor other than that it means I can spare you their narrow-minded company for a bit of time.” Braxiatel assured her in a gentle whisper. “Although, don’t count the ladies out. You know as well as I do in these times, behind every seemingly clever man of science, there could be and most likely are dozen of brilliant women not receiving their due credit.” Then Braxiatel leaned a bit back, gave an oddly apologetic grin and spoke in more of a stage whisper for the benefit of any eavesdroppers.

“Worry not, my dear. With you as my brilliant instructor in life and I, your protector, I feel I am more than qualified to speak on your behalf. I shall act in the best interest of your father’s company.” Braxiatel vowed in an overly reassuring manner before kissing her hand, still ungloved from dinner. Romana did not know if that embarrassing line or the kiss itself, but he had solicited yet another blush from her. She considered it a disagreeable reaction, but it got the desired, predicted affect for Braxiatel. Romana could have rolled her eyes and groaned at how easily the time lord worked a room. Most of the ladies at the table cooed and the men silently nodded, happy to see that at least one of their lot had influence over the intellectually untouchable, astute woman. If Braxiatel derived any pleasure from these affectionate gestures he utilized in order to promote this covert operation running smoother… He was time lordly enough to spare his ice maiden the discomfiting heat of admitting such a failing outright. At any rate, the overall tension in the atmosphere of the room eased significantly by his move. Noticing this, Romana slowly withdrew her hand.

“You are enjoying this role far too much with the other players so easily manipulated.” Romana whispered to Braxiatel dryly. Braxiatel looked disinterestedly at his fingertips, but there was an odd bereavement about the act now with the absence of her hand.

“They have nothing to do with my enjoyment, My Lady.” He stated meaningfully back, although, almost certain his meaning would never be realized by its target. Romana, clever that she was, immediately comprehended, but just as quickly was convinced that she was mistaken when dealing with the ever ironical Irving Braxiatel. Still, the damage of her first initial impression was done. Despite Braxiatel’s hopes of sparing his ice maiden the added heat from her cheeks, the room was now stiflingly too warm for her. So, as quickly as dignity and her skirts would allow, Roman left Braxiatel and the dining room for the drawing room. She had more pressing things to be concerned about, like what intelligence she could acquire from the spouses of all those “great thinkers” in the other room.


End file.
